The Elysian Shard
by alecelearedan
Summary: being the misadventures of the Middle-earth's scoundrel-savior
1. The Fall of Klonodor

Alasdair clutched the great sword tightly in his fists. Naurearnor. The Flame of Arnor. A most brilliant sight.

Klonodor's sword. His dear Klonodor.

"Why, my friend?" he said to himself. "Why have you left us?"

Alasdair sat in the corner and tended to his mead. Piss swill but that was to be expected from such a desolate place like the Forsaken Inn. Alasdair and his men had heard the rumblings from local folk about Klonodor's supposed sighting in the Lone-lands. Tales of a grey-haired man stained from battle passing by hurriedly were common talk around The Forsaken Inn. Alasdair was skeptical. His party had found no trace of Klonodor in the Trollshaws nor Bruinen.

Elrond of Rivendell had not seen him either. Nor had any ranger south or Eregion, where he had departed.

Klonodor's chilling last words had caused Alasdair to lose countless hours of sleep in the days since the battle.

"Elvellonwen!" the blood-soaked champion cried out. "Elvellonwen!"

Blades surrounded Klonodor. Orc blades. Daggers and blood. Alasdair could not see his friend through the thick of the fight. He could but hear his war cry.

Orc after orc encircled him, thrashing their poorly made steel and bronze. Their long pointy nails making contact with his skin. Yet Klonodor would not stay down.

An arrow had pierced his back. Klonodor dropped to one knee, exhausted. Alasdair tried to reach him.

"Too many damned orcs! Hang on, Klonodor," he remembered thinking.

Alasdair fought his way closer and closer, frantically cutting down any enemy in his path. It seemed all in vain. Elsewhere, Alec, previously preoccupied slaying a troll with Klonodor's son Hinandrith, glanced over at Klonodor's position.

"Father!" Hinandrith yelled, grabbing a dull Goblin's knife from the ground. Hinandrith attempted to charge but Alec tackled him.

"Easy, lad. Don't make a corpse of yourself too now."

Those were not easy words for Alec to say. He saw the fury in young Hinandrith's eyes. Even though he was born a bastard, Hinandrith had grown to love his father.

"Let me go, Alec!"

Alec said, "Don't be a fool, boy. We'll get him."

Added by AlecElearedan

Alec reached into his breast plate and lifted out a horn. A Gondorian horn.

The horn sounded. Every ranger and sell sword in the company turned around and faced Alec. They were only five of them left and were greatly outnumbered by the swarm of Orc kind. Only five from the original twelve that had set out from Lothlorien on Lady Galadriel's orders to found ancient relics lost in Eregion.

None of that mattered now.

Alec shouted, "Men! Form ranks! TO KLONODOR!"

"TO KLONODOR!" the men shouted back.

A storm of bodies charged. Yards away, Alasdair took notice and charged.

"KLONODOR!" he cried out in anger.

The orcs pushed Klonodor down, dirt and blood caked into his face. He let out a puff of air. His eyes rolled back into his head but not before the face of dead Orc head impaled by a sword landed near his line of sight.

"It's over," he thought.

Alasdair raised his head abruptly from the bar top. He panted as sweat trickled down his brow.

"Everything all right there, sir? Anlaf the tavern keep asked him curiously.

"Yes," Alastair he said with resignation.

He went back to his corner and continued tending to his drink.


	2. The Flight of Klonodor

Alec's charge proved effective. Though vastly outnumbered, the company had pinned their care on saving Klonodor. Aghast with fear, the Orcs that had beaten Klonodor into the ground had relinquished their position and retreated into the neighboring forest.

"It's over," Klonodor's thoughts chimed again and again in a loop.

He wanted to sleep. Forever. No more battles. No more wars over jewelry, no more darkness. No more. He had seen enough for one life time.

"Curse it all. I'm done," he thought.

Visions of Elvellonwen entered into his mind. The fair Elvellowen. Elvellonwen and her innocent eyes, her easy silk skin, her summer dress. Her bow. Elvellonwen the Huntress. He longed for the hunts and the times spent alone together. He missed the way she looked at him after he had too much to drink, how she laughed at his jokes, how she always curtsied to greet him even though Klonodor had insisted she not.

He loved her and she would never know.

Before drifting off into darkness, Klonodor heard a voice. His bastard's voice.

"Father!" Hinandrith bewailed. He grabbed Klonodor's lifeless body and held him firmly in his arms. Alec knelt near Hinandrith. Alasdair and the rest of the company looked on with sorrow-filled eyes.

"Let's get him out of here before the Orcs come back. He needs healing or he will not last the night," Alasdair said.

Hinandrith fumbled through his pockets looking for potions. He had none. He placed his hand on Klonodor's forehead and muttered words in Elvish.

"Don't," Alec insisted. "Your healing skills are far from complete."

"I know what I'm doing!" a disheartened Hinandrith hit back.

"The way back to Lothlorien is long and littered with Orcs," Alasdair said. "We'll need to make for Rivendell if he has any chance of survival."

Alec was silent. He knew something was not right.

Alec looked down at his sword Ainurbane.

The Elysian Shard was blinking.

"A! Elbereth Gilthoniël!" Hinandrith said in astonishment.

Alasdair, shocked as well, said, "Alec...can you..."

Suddenly, Klonodor's eyes, white as snow, opened imposingly. Ainurbane slipped out of Alec's hands and fell to Klonodor's body. Klonodor's fingers twitched as life entered back into him. He gently fingered the Elysian Shard.

Klonodor gasped, whispering, "Elysian...Elvell...Elys...Elvellonwen," with his exhalation.

The others looked on with relief. Alec was cautious.

"Klonodor," he said, taking back his sword.

"No...Alec...no," Klonodor screamed at Alec.

His face was gaunt, his eyes glazed. He tried to leap towards Alec but was far too weak.

"Get him up on horseback. He does not have long," said Alasdair.

Hinandrith grabbed Severin's reins, bringing the horse to his master. Hinandrith and Alasdair hoisted Klonodor's cadaverous limbs onto the saddle, propping him up completely. Klonodor's head slumped over. His inanimate eyes made contact with the shard in Alec's sword again.

The shard flickered again. Klonodor was taken back by the light.

A possessed look came over his face.

"It's over! What's done is done!" he bellowed.

"No, Klonodor..."

Alasdair tried to take hold of the reins but Klonodor pushed him back. Stunned, Alasdair grimaced at his old friend then tried again. This time Klonodor unsheathed his sword and directed it at Alasdair's neck.

"Flame of Arnor!"

Klonodor let out an inhumane shriek, throwing Naurearnor to the ground. A cloud of dirt billowed around Severin's hoaves. In a instant, Klonodor had disappeared.


	3. Finding Klonodor, Part One

Klonodor was gone. Maimed by Orc and treading towards death, the haggard looking skeletal white figure took Alec's horse, Severin, and fled the battle field. Gone. Defeated and grief-stricken, the battered company made for their encampment just outside of Eregion. Duirmid took some flint from his satchel and sparked a fire. The lads had hoovered around it for warmth. Flasks of ale were passed our to heal the hurt. Hinandrith lost himself in the fire and said nothing.

"That was not the Klonodor we knew," Alec said.

"What do you mean, Alec? We all saw the man fall then take off. Sure, he seemed a bit out of sorts, but it was still Klonodor!" Alasdair protested.

"No, Alasdair. I felt...I felt some kind of transformation. The man Klonodor...no longer. He...changed. He was fixated on my sword...the shard within it. He wanted it. It...frightened him off...I think."

"That shard of yours. Always causing problems," Alasdair said with a half smile.

"What do you suppose he saw in the shard?" Duirmid asked.

There was a long silence. Alec looked at to the sky – a starless night full of chill. Red were the clouds light from the moon's light.

"Elvellowen," Alec said sadly. Hinandrith looked up, shook his head, and there was silence once again.

The company had set out from Lothlorien under orders from Lady Galadriel to retrieve missing artifacts she believed were in Eregion. Only five had survived the onslaught from the Orc ambush if Klonodor was to be counted. In the pangs of sorrow over his father's condition, Alec ordered Hinandrith to sojourn in Rivendell under Elrond's vigilant eye.

Alec had work to do, counsel to seek out and answers to find. Word of Klonodor's departure had found its way into the ears of every ranger and ally in Middle-earth. The Enemy would be looking for him too, Alec feared. He is a dangerous ally to be had. The Enemy will know of his vulnerable state and seek to ensnare him to their cause. He is no longer a man. Something in between. Klonodor in limbo. Alec had felt the change.

The task to retrieve Klonodor fell chiefly on Alasdair. Alasdair, the one-eyed ranger from Bree, had known Klonodor for many years and was carrying his sword, Naurearnor. Alec allowed his own squire Duirmid to accompany Alasdair. Alec recognized that Alasdair would value the company of his only son. The unripened twenty-one needed battle seasoning. His abilities in tracking left more to be desired but his skills with the sword had improved under Alec's tutelage. Alec heard rumor that a figure resembling Klonodor had been spotted on horseback riding across the Lone-lands. Alasdair would require more than Duirmid to track and perhaps subdue Klonodor if need it came to it.

In the taverns of Eriador, Alec sought help. There, he was able to enlist three sell swords named Conall, Kyran, and Sorley - all of Dale respectively. But Klonodor was injured gravely and seemed resigned to his fate. He was not seeking healing. A healer was necessary. Would he task Rellan with this job? No, Alec could not imagine asking Rellan for this favor. Kyran, who seemed to be the leader of the company of the three sell swords from Dale vouched for a local woman named Ulna.

"Ulna is what you need," Kyran said proudly.

"Who is this...Ulna?" Alec inquired.

"A healer with a high asking price if you ask me," Conall interjected. Sorley shook his head in agreement. Alec wasn't sure he was ready to pay up. He had the copper and it was true to him that there was no price he could put on the life of his friend Klonodor. Yet he agreed reluctantly and so the company to rescue Klonodor was formed: Alasdair, its captain. Duirmid, his so., the three sell swords from Dale - Conall, Kyran, and Sorley, and finally, Ulna, the female healer who came with a price.

Alec met with the company in the Trollshaws and saw them off. He turned to Alasdair.

"Bring Klonodor back at all costs. I'm entrusting you with this task, Alasdair. He's a danger to himself and everyone around him."

Alasdair nodded.

And they were off.


	4. Finding Klonodor, Part Two

The company had safely navigated their way through the Trollshaws and across the Last Bridge, entering the desolate terrain known as the the Lone-lands. Tension was well apparent between the rangers and the sell swords. They outnumbered them, but the rangers were better skilled and better armed. Squabbling talk over morality and duty was common: Duirmid would not shut up about how heedless the mercenaries were to the plight of the Free People. The sell swords had just laughed it off.

"Better be a rich man without a country than a dead man fighting for a lost cause," they kept saying.

Alasdair ignored their talk. Ulna the healer kept still, not opening her mouth since Alec had seen them off. The company trekked on undisturbed. Sorley suggested a stop at Ost Guruth for the night to make camp. There would be ale and it would be safe. Alasdair fancied a rest and some drink, but he knew they must press on.

Alasdair said, "We stop only briefly for food and drink. Be quick about it."

An acquainted face greeted Alasdair at the front of the settlement: Frideric the Elder, who seemed to be the de facto leader of Ost Guruth.

"Hail Alasdair, ranger of the North!

Alasdair bowed. "We do not mean to stay long, Frideric. I'm sorry, friend, but we have little time for pleasantries. Our companion is missing and my company fears for the worst."

"You speak of the Dunedain they call Klonodor. Yes, yes. Word has gotten to these parts of his tragedy. Terrible news. He was well-liked and renowned."

Alasdair nodded. "Then you realize our hastiness."

"I will not keep you long, Alasdair. Our vendors are at your disposal...but, uh, I do not know the rest of you." Frideric pointed to the sell swords and Ulna. "Evil men have been raiding our lands. Half-orcs, they say. They do not look like such kind but I cannot permit them on the grounds. They will have to wait outside."

"Now, you listen, old man," Kyran stabbed back, but was stopped by Duirmid.

"He is right," Duirmid said. "These are a peaceful people who are wary of outsiders. I will stay outside as well, father."

"Very well. Back soon," Alasdair said as he walked away.

Minutes upon minutes passed as the company waited for Alasdair. Finally, he returned with enough supplies to last a week and three new horses.

"Don't get too attached, Duirmid, we are only borrowing them. I feel Klonodor is close. We ride for the Forsaken Inn."

Alasdair mounted his horse and offered Ulna to ride with him. Duirmid rode with Sorley, Kyran with Conall. They took the Great Road East traveling towards Bree-land. The clatter of horse made noise on the dry sand road. There was only one place where rumor would lead them to Klonodor: the Forsaken Inn. The sun vanished behind the clouds and the moon rose above the mountainous horizon.

Just after he spoke, an arrow flew over Duirmid's head, almost hitting him. Duirmid looked puzzled. He sighed and looked for any sight of trouble. He turned around to Sorley, an arrow piercing his temple, dead. The frail body of Sorley fell off the horse and smacked the ground. Gone.

"We're under attack!"

The horse being ridden by Conall and Kyren bucked and flung both sell swords off its back, fleeing. Conall and Kyran struggled to get up. Ulna gripped Alasdair tightly. She spoke for the first time in days.

"We are going to die here."

Duirmid spotted the archers. Half-orcs. Mutant villainy. "There! Behind the rocks!"

Duirmid unsheathed his sword and charged the archers. Out of nowhere, a spear had gored Duirmid's horse, sending Duirmid flying into a nest of the enemy. Alasdair was close, however, as he hacked away and beheaded every Half-orc in sight. Kyran and Conall came rushing from the distance, attacking the spearmen with their clubs and axes. Blood everywhere – Ulna could only watch as a Half-orc frothing at the mouth staggered towards her.

"Stay back!" Ulna reached for a small dagger under her leggings.

The Half-orc pressed forward, almost smiling at the thought of his kill. The head was severed from its bodies and rolled on the ground.

A figure on horseback gave her a long, dark stare from his crystal white eyes. He threw down the rusty Orcish blade used to behead the creature. Alasdair looked up from the fighting.

Severin?

Klonodor?

A Half-orc came from behind Alasdair and tackled him. Duirmid thrust his blade into it, saving his father, but he was maimed by a bite from the Half-orc's jagged teeth in the process. When Alasdair made it back to his feet, he turned his head and tried to spot the dark figure.

Gone. Gone again.

"Damn you, Klonodor," he thought.

The last of the Half-orcs were disposed off. The company regrouped and looked around at the carnage.

"We burn the dead. Sorley too," Alasdair said coldly. "Conall, Kyran, you will tend to the bodies. Ulna, I will need you to bandage my son and tend to his wounds."

Duirmid gripped the cut on his arms. "Damned creatures. Father, where are you going?"

"The inn."

Conall and Kyran stacked up the bodies. Duirmid, wincing over the blood loss, drew flint and handed it to Kyran. The bodies were engulfed in fire as the group watched on.

Minutes turned to hours and the company sat in silence as they idled away time waiting for Alasdair's return.

Conall said, "Wonder what's taking him so long..."

Before he could finish speaking, an inebriated and sweating Alasdair swung upon the inn's door and approached the company.

"You reek of ale, father."

"Yes, yes. Too many visions and memories I endured while in that wretched place. But I come with good news or, at least, some news. The shadowy figure has been seen at night around the inn. A curious group of on-lookers said that they followed it until they saw the figure descend upon Weathertop where they dared not to go. I believe Klonodor is seeking refuge in Amon Sul, the Hill of Wind."

"The highest point in the Weather Hills," Duirmid added.

"I understand it. Klonodor would desire to be back at a place that was built by his Arnorian ancestors. We leave the horses here and make on foot. The horses seem startled by this...apparition...this thing...They will go no further. Come," Alasdair commanded.

The ascent up the Weather Hills was arduous and exhausting yet the company maintained a positive spirit knowing that Klonodor could be close by. Finally, the company reached the summit but there no one to be found. They removed their belongings and set up camp. In silence, Alasdair pondered that savage shriek Klonodor let out before he vanished.

Alec was right. No longer a man.

Something else.

The company drifted off to sleep under the comfort of the night's sky. An eery calm surrounded the summit. Silence and more silence. Stillness...the world had become mute.

A flashing light blinded the company and voices whispered, "Elysian...Elvellonwen...Elys...Elv...Eeeeell...eeees...seeeee"

A shadowy figure emerged.

"I'll have my sword back...Alasdair," a raspy voice said from the darkness.

A hooded entity. Almost without form, hovering near them, getting closer and closer.

The figure took off his hood and showed his face. A ghastly sight at first, but when they peered into its steel cold eyes, they almost recognized the figure. It was almost beautiful in its darkness.

There he stood. Klonodor – or at least some form of him. His skin had an alabaster blueish hue to it and his eyes were piercingly strong.

He was fully healed. But how?

Another figured emerged behind Klonodor's back, itching his way to Klonodor's side.

Rellan. The Heretic.

His cocky voice said, "I have saved the Dunedain, you see...I have need of him."

Klonodor, possessed, walked slowly toward Alasdair. Rellan clutched his staff and let out a laugh. Fear and horror come over the company.

"My...sword, Alasdair. Naurearnor. Give it to me," Klonodor muttered softly yet firmly.

Rellan lifted his staff in the air and chanted spells in a queer language not known to any of the company. Naurearnor became heavy. Alasdair could no longer hold onto it. The sword fell from his hands and clashed to the ground, bolts of electricity radiating through the blade. Klonodor knelt before the sword and held it once again.

"Klonodor, you...must come with us," Duirmid said shaking.

Conall and Kyran unsheathed their swords and sprang towards Klonodor. Before Alasdair could warn them, Klonodor swung Naurearnor in a swift, mighty blow, cutting both sell swords in half.

Rellan laughed.

"Noooooo!" Alasdair yelled.

A bolt of lightning shot out of Rellan's staff, sending Alasdair, Duirmid and Ulna from the summit, rolling to the hills below.

Darkness crept over Alasdair's eyes.

Klonodor surveyed the damage below. Then Rellan put his hand on the figure's shoulder, only saying:

"We have work to do."


	5. Putting the Pieces Together

When Alasdair regained consciousness he found himself in a mess of rubble a great length from the summit of Weathertop. Alasdair's head was throbbing and his vision blurred. He searched through his memory of the night prior. A blinding light. Klonodor...and Rellan. Rellan, the puppet master. Klonodor, though some variant of the ranger. Something else. A puppet possessed.

Alasdair felt cold air up against him, nuzzling his face. The smell of horse. Severin. Klonodor had left Alec's horse behind. How thoughtful of him, Alasdair thought to himself. It was a welcomed sight, however. Alec's body had suffered a tremendous blow. Rellan. Rellan, that bastard. He attacked me. Why?

"Severin, you beautiful...I cannot walk. We...must find...my son...if he still lives."

Severin knelt down and Alasdair used whatever strength was left to straddle the horse, holding tightly onto Severin's reins. The descent down Weather Hills proved painful for the broken Alasdair. The light faded and darkness came over his eyes. In and out of consciousness. Waves of light then dark. In his dream state, visions of Klonodor the Possessed and Rellan trickled back into his mind. Naurearnor. He took his sword back. He slaughtered Conall and Kyran, the swell swords of Dale. Ulna and Duirmid – where were they? Klonodor was alive and seemed completely healed from the wounds he suffered at the Orc ambush in Eregion. Alive – but a shell of his former self. What was he now? Some demonic agent of Rellan?

"I have need of him," Alasdair remembered Rellan saying in that sinister voice.

He had only encountered Rellan a handful of times. He knew the rumors of him. The Heretic. The outsider. The dark sorcerer. Alec held him in high regard, however. He was the man that saved the orphan Alec and raised him for a time. It was Rellan who used alchemy to forge Alec's sword. It was Rellan who was once a well-esteemed adviser to the Steward Ecthelion of Gondor. Those days were long gone. What is Rellan's angle in all this? It never seemed evident.

"Fa...ther...?" a frail voice said. "Father..."

Duirmid appeared from behind some brush. Duirmid, unsound as well, limped over to his father.

"My heart...rejoices to see your faces again, my son," Alasdair said with great sincerity. "Where...has the healer gone? Where is Ulna?"

Duirmid was silent for a moment. "I woke up and the lady was tending to me. Her hands were glowing and a warmth came over my body. She told me that she did as much for as me as she could and I needed to give in to rest. She left moments after. No words were said. Just...gone."

"The healer lived up to her name then. We can ask no more from her. Come, my boy. Ride with me. We make for Gondor."

There was a pause.

"Alec will want to know what has transpired. Only he can put an end to the menace Rellan is about to unleash."


	6. The Cold Embrace of Winter

Alec carefully scrutinized the endless stacks of scrolls in his study. His Minas Tirith abode was small yet had a homely feel to it. The great stone walls were adorned with paintings of essential Middle-earth scenery: the hills and grasslands of The Shire, the trees of Mirkwood, the flowers of Lothlorien. In the corner stood a life-size ivory statue of Elendil. In times when the threads of hope seemed few, Alec would gaze at the statue as it gleamed from the candlelight and wonder how a man like Elendil would handle himself during such trying times. He felt small in those moment. The tavern folk have it all wrong. I am no savior, no Sword of Man. I'm just a simple ranger.

Alec went over to his wooden keg and flooded his pint full of frothy dark ale which foamed to the rim. He had many pints this evening and started to feel a bit sloshed. The text of the scrolls became pixelated and undecipherable. Words meshed together and whole sentences danced. Alec put the scroll down and took a gulp from his pint. His thoughts raced unrestrained without form or color. No peace was to be had tonight it seemed. Glimpses of an alabastrine face with a blue glow peaking out of solid black hood. Those eyes. Those deathly eyes. In the distance he could hear a familiar cackle. Not wholly evil. A throaty yet calculating laugh. Rellan's laugh, no doubt. Alec's eyes broadened as his eye brows raised.

"These damned visions will be my destruction" he said as he taking another swig from his pint.

In the past he had fruitlessly endeavored to drink the visions away. Absorbing innumerable pints of ale, fine wine from Esgaroth, even the mead, that dreadful swill, that the dwarves seemed to particular fond of. But the visions remained. Alec considered it a curse, but a useful one at that. At times his visions could be a complete comfort. The mind of Elearedan, so full of war and horror, could be calmed and sights of love and light would materialize. Images of Neveriel, the spiritedmercenary of Dol Amroth. His former love. She was almost as much of a scoundrel than Alec was. They had spent many seasons scouting Orc camps along the borders of Gondor in the name of the Steward. Through snow and sunlight they were together. War is love's natural enemy it seemed. He had to let her go. He had a duty to the Free People above all else. He missed her more and more and wondered where she was, what adventures she was falling into, if he would ever see her rosy face in the flesh again.

Alec sunk back in his chair and allowed his head to face the ceiling.

"What a cruel joke my duty is. Duty took me away from you. Oh, what visions I have of you tonight, Neveriel, as I face this brutal winter's embrace."

A draft entered his quarters and a chill crawled playfully up his spine. Alec shivered then went into to the corner to fetch some more logs for the fireplace. As he finished tossing the wood into the fire, he found himself lost staring vacantly into the gyrating flames. In the flames he saw a young Klonodor. A vibrant smile, so full of life. A face without a scar traced down from his eyes. His hair without a single strand of gray. The years had become unkind to him. Like Alec and and his chieftain Aragorn, Klonodor had entered the service of the Thengel and Ecthelion. Though a ranger, Klonodor had the build of a warrior and was always attired in heavy armor as compared to the traditional Dunedain ranger garb. Alec and Klonodor fought countless battles side-by-side. Each use to say that they had saved the other's life more times than they could count. It was true. They had been brother-in-arms spanning many decades. It had been Klonodor who devised the strategy to defeat Drikguth the Uruk-hai Chieftain and his cronies. It was Klonodor who rode with Alec in search of the both false kings, Vortith the Pretender and Wary Lanek. Should Alec have married Neveriel, Klonodor would have been his best man at the wedding. Distance and conflict had driven the two friends apart. When Alec was tasked by Lady Galadriel to retrieve lost Lothlorien relics in Eregion, he was elated to know that Klonodor would be joining him.

Eregion. That frightful battle where everything changed. Alec could not shake away the sound of Alec's last shriek before vanishing into the black night. The grisly sub-human sight. The shell of a man that Klonodor left behind.

Alec knew that in Klonodor's last moments he coveted Ainurbane.

"Must have seen something in the Elysian Shard," he thought to himself.

Elvellonwen. Always Elvellowen. Alec sat in silence until they was a knock at his door. Haldred, his attendant when he stayed in Minas Tirith.

"Master Alasdair and the squire Duirmid are here, my lord," Haldred said.

Alec turned away from the flames. A most welcome sight entered the room. Alasdair and Duirmid, both weathered from battle.

"You two look...awful," Alec said with a smirk.

"It has been a long road and I fear we have little time, my lord," Alasdair said in haste. Duirmid remained silent and struggled to keep eye contact with Alec.

"It's Rellan, my lord," Alasdair continued.

"...Rellan...?"

"He attacked us at the peak of Amon Sul where we tracked what remains of Klonodor. Klonodor is not the same. He seems...controlled. Not his former self. He took back Naurearnor and viciously slayed our sell sword companions. Rellan is pulling the strings of this puppet Klonodor."

Alec stood in disbelief. "What is Rellan's angle here? He's cunning, but not evil. This was the man who raised me, you know. He gave me a home, saw that I had a proper education, introduced me to every powerful figure in Gondor. He put a sword in my hands. What does Rellan have to gain here by enslaving Klonodor?"

"I don't know, my lord," Alasdair said. "But whatever Rellan is up to, it falls to you to match him."

Alec frantically gathered his things. He sheathed Ainurbane and stuffed two daggers into his boots. Alasdair helped him on with his cloak while Duirmid fetched his helm.

"Duirmid, see to it that my room is not tampered with. I ride for Rellan's Tower."

After one last long gaze into the flames, Alec turned back to Duirmid and Alasdair.

"Goodbye, my friends."


	7. The Moon a Crimson Red

It was a showery night in Minas Tirith with blades of water falling sharply from the night's sky. Pulses of electricity stirred over the horizon of the White City; a storm was gathering. Alec, fully cloaked in a glooming dark green hood and cape, hurriedly strode from his dwelling on the sixth level to the stable where his companion Severin was being held. Severin, a horse of midnight black, was in a tranquil state as Alec stroked his nose to greet his friend. No place for such a dignified creature, Alec thought to himself. The stable was crude and damp. Severin's stable was far too small to hold him comfortably. Originally a gift from his chieftain Aragorn, Severin had been Alec's horse for well over fifteen years and the two were scarcely apart. Severin was virtually within a whistle away from his master at all hours.

Alec mounted the horse and flew out of the stable in a fury, passing townsfolk scurrying under the stables' roof to keep out from the rain. They rode promptly through the stone streets as Alec tightly gripped Severin's reins. The thunder and lightning failed to startle Severin as it would a regular horse. The clanking of Severin's hooves against the cold ground drew attention from the locals as they looked on in speculation, though it was not unheard of to see a ranger scattering about the city in haste. Alec navigated level after level of his city until he approached the Great Gate.

He fumbled through his pockets until he produced his signature flask. Only his love of Ainurbane could match his love for this flask. The flask had been his since he came of age as a ranger well over sixty-five years ago. Made from stainless steel by his friend Ognar, a Broadbeam dward of the Blue Mountains and a master blacksmith, the flask was an impressive gift. Alec studied the flask before taking a swig. Elvish lettering shined in the moonlight: the phrase "SWORD OF MAN" had been etched into its steel by Hinandrith, Klonodor's Elven son. His thoughts, no matter how hard he tried, always seem to linger back onto his old friend. Dol Amroth was the destination. Alec hoped he'd find both Rellan and whatever was left of Klonodor there in Rellan's Tower. Alec envisioned Rellan in a comfy chair and a fire in the furnace grinning as a the lifeless face of Klonodor clutched his sword. The thought of Klonodor bent to Rellan's will repulsed him, but it seemed illogical: Why would Rellan make this move? He knew how Alec would respond. Life, it seemed, was a chess board to Rellan and everyone around him, save maybe Alec himself, were merely pawns in his game.

_He knows I'm coming. _

_He wants me to. _

Severin galloped across the dirt of Pelennor Fields. The field was empty save for the ranger and his horse. Alec knew he would need to reach Lossarnach soon and eventually Lebennin. He struggled with the possibility of stopping for the night in the safety of Linhir but it was a bit out of the way. Dor-En-Ernil would be next and then finally Dol Amroth.

_Neveriel might be in Dol Amroth. _

It had been many months since Alec had last seen and since then he was at constant battle with himself fighting the craving to visit her.

_She probably isn't even there. She could be in Harad or a ship heading north. She could be anywhere. _

He imagined her on some ship anchoring in Orc lands. She was the only women of this crew and the men often made passes out her. She was beautiful, of course, with her perfect dark hair and her sinless fawn eyes. She was wicked, that one, however. Alec imagined her shooting Orc and Goblin comfortably from a crow's nest and her smiling through it all. For the first time all night, a smile was molded to Alec's face.

_Focus at the task at hand, Alec. Klonodor needs you. You left Neveriel because of your duty to your people. It would have never worked and you know it. It would have never worked...it would have never worked...never...worked..._

The dream of Neverthiel stretched on for what seemed like an eon. Alec awakened some time there after. Dol Amroth came before he know.

_How long have I been asleep? _

It didn't matter. In the corner of his eye Alec saw an all too familiar sight: Rellan's Tower. The water that surrounded it. How isolated it was from the rest of the world. Perfect for Rellan.

A figure stood in the doorway as Severin braved the waters up to his knee. In his mind Alec could hear a voice saying "_I knew you'd come." _

It was Rellan.

"My boy," Rellan began warmly. "It has been some time."

"Spare me the jests, Rellan," Alec shot back.

"You have come for answers, I know. But please, do not enter my tower with malice. It is not welcome. There is work to be done. Please. Come in."

Rellan took down his hood, revealing his weather-beaten pallid face and gray hair. His hand found itself pushing on Alec's lower back, ushering him through the doorway. Alec looked around. Shelves full of books and scrolls. Tables covered in maps and manuscripts. Lockers full of potions and vials. The walls a depressing off-gray rock. The tower was cold even with a fire blazing.

"Please sit, boy," Rellan said, offering him a seat near the fire. "You will want to know what has become of your ranger friend Klonodor..."

Alec sat as Rellan stood facing a mirror in the corner. Rellan looked at his tired eyes, gazing at Alec at the sides of his eyes.

"Alec, my dear boy. I raised you up as an infant and I am proud of the man you have become. You know these are arduous times. Times where we must throw away our dated traditional standards of what is good and evil and play by a different moral code. It was been years, Alec. So many years since I stood distinguished in service to our realm. Our home. I was but a proud counselor to the steward Ecthelion for most of my years. When the good steward died, his lunatic dolt of a son inherited his seat as you know. That bastard Denethor. Of course, am only telling you what you already know. He hates us, Alec. He fears us. He excommunicated me because he let this fear drive him. He and his noble sycophants accused me of meddling in the dark arts, of consulting with the Enemy. It is he who is the dark one, Alec, my boy. But you know this already."

Alec looked on as Rellan turned away from the mirror and approached him slowly.

"It is time, Alec. Time at last. Denethor will be dead in no time. And what a beautiful day it will be when he is gone forever."

Alec interjected firmly. "You mean to assassinate the steward, Rellan?"

"And put his son Boromir, a fair nobler man, in his place," Rellan added. "Don't you see, Alec? This is the only way Gondor will be free of his madness."

Alec sat silent for a moment as Rellan's eyes didn't blink.

"Gondor deserved a finer steward than what they were given. Our instrument is ready, Alec. The perfect assassin."

_Klonodor. He means Klonodor. _

"You mean to use a champion of the Free People as a pawn to do your will? Rellan...oh, Rellan...how far have you fallen?"

Rellan, feeling the growth of his power, shouted out, "I AM AWAKEN, ALEC! AWAKEN!"

Rellan smirked masochistically. "I have kept this ranger friend of yours alive only because he is subservient and will do my bidding well. You must understand. I could not ask you to do this task for me, my boy. I could not ask you to kill Denethor."

Alec stood up and lurched over Rellan. "This cannot be the way, Rellan. Klonodor must be free. You cannot use him to exact your revenge on the steward. This is...wrong. I cannot be a part of this. Free Klonodor now, Rellan."

"Wrong? The only thing wrong is that Denethor still sits in power at the Citadel. I knew this wouldn't be easy for you, my boy. Your friendship and loyalty to the memory of Klonodor are blinding you of what needs to be done."

"No, Rellan...no..."

Out of the corner crept a figure. The fire's light illuminated his face. Klonodor. Or what was left of him.

Klonodor's mouth opened and faint words came out.

"Is that you...death?"

Alec was taken aback by his choice of words.

"Klonodor..."

Alec tried to embrace him but Klonodor's face remained stoic and his body limp.

"Old friend, I'm here for you. Rellan, you must free him," Alec begged.

Alec turned around and Rellan was gone. He heard the sound of Klonodor unsheathing his sword, Naurearnor. In an instant, Alec spun around and he met Klonodor's sword with his own. Naurearnor and Ainurbane lit the room up with sparks as Klonodor struggled not to be overpowered by Alec's thrust. Alec stepped away, still clenching his sword.

"No, Klonodor. It does not have to be this way," Alec pleaded.

"You stand in my way, Death. I must destroy you."

Klonodor shrieked. That cold-blooded shriek. It cooked Alec's ears. Alec backed away slowly and worked his way up the winding stone staircase. Klonodor moused lazily in pursuit. Klonodor hurtled forward with a massive blow that Alec blocked. The two exchanged strikes and thrusts all the way up the staircase. They made it outside to the tower's peak. Klonodor was tenacious. His sword stroked Alec over and again but could not land a blow. Alec was on the defensive. Klonodor held up Naurearnor over his head and let the sword crash down onto Alec, nearly piercing Alec's armor. Alec was pushed backwards from the impact. As he attempted to get up, Klonodor brought his boot to Alec's face. Alec, now bleeding from the nose and a gash on his face, pulled out a dagger and drove it completely through Klonodor's calf. Klonodor shrieked and Alec's shoulders raised trying to block out the sound.

With the knife still in his leg, Klonodor circled around the tower's peak as Alec remained in a defense position. Klonodor reached down and pulled the dagger from his calf and discarded it. His possessed eyes did not blink and no expression of pain reached his face.

_He's not human. _

"Death...Death...Death..."

Klonodor closed his mouth and poked his sword towards Alec's stomach. Alec swung his sword in a furious stroke, knocking Naurearnor from Klonodor's hands. Klonodor spat at Alec in a rage. Klonodor retrieved Naurearnor as lightning ignited amid the clouds and stars. Tired, Alec held up Ainurbane and yelled a horrifying war cry. Lightning struck the blade and electricity slithered around its steel.

"Ainurbane! Sword of Electricity! Slayer of wicked gods and evil men!"

A thunderous blow from Ainurbane met Klonodor's sword. The steel of Naurearnor shattered into fragments. Klonodor fell backwards as Alec pointed his sword toward Klonodor's neck.

"It is finished, my friend," Alec said somberly.

Klonodor's eyes kindled with horror as he studied Ainurbane hilt to its pointy end. His eyes stopped at the Elysian Shard and Klonodor was entranced. The shard flickered as blood trickled from a cut in Klonodor's forehead.

In the shard, Klonodor saw his beloved Elvellowen.

"Elvellonwen..."

"What of her? She is not here, my friend," Alec implored.

"I must...be with her...she was...taken from me...your sword...death's sword..."

Klonodor, on one knee now, tried to get up.

"I must...have...death's sword."

Alec heard Klonodor's frail words and brought the sword closer to him. Klonodor shrieked at Alec's denial of the sword. He dove forward trying to take Ainurbane from Alec.

Klonodor felt his lungs collapsed as if he was smashed by a troll's club. He looked down at his mid-section where Ainurbane had impaled him. He dropped to his knees. With tears in his eyes, Alec slid the sword out of Klonodor's body. Blood poured onto the stone beneath their feet. Klonodor was dizzy and his vision blurred. Alec embraced him.

"My...brother. I'm so...sorry," Alec said, choking on his own words. Alec wept.

He cradled Klonodor's empty body, pressing Klonodor's head onto his shoulder. Klonodor's breathing slowed and eventually stopped. Alec sobbed as he let go of the body. He came to his feet and looked down at his fallen friend.

His own body soaked with Klonodor's blood, Alec looked away and the night's moon turned a crimson red.


	8. Alec the Killer

Alec stared off in the distance at the crimson red moon. His face was vacant of expression and Klonodor's blood dripped from his brow down his cheek like fresh tears.

_I'm a killer. I'll always be a killer. I will never know peace. War and death is my vocation. Death. He called me Death. Am I the embodiment of Death?_

Alec had slayed Klonodor and his old friend was gone. Behind his back his friend's body had met death and he could not bare to look upon his lifeless body again. He sighed and wiped the warm blood off Ainurbane then fit it into its sheath. Alec was mute as he left the peak of Rellan's Tower and made his way down its winding stone stairs.

He reached a wooden door where he entered Rellan's Study. He was startled to find Rellan welcoming him in, as if this was as Rellan had planned.

"You should not cry for your fallen friend, my boy. Your tears shall be reserved for Denethor and the fact that he still rules over our homeland," Rellan said. "But no tears for dear Klonodor. He served his purpose and now he's gone."

"His purpose? Rellan, you have played a sick game. Klonodor is dead now. At the hands of my blade," Alec said feebly.

"Oh, my boy. So much exists beyond what we can see with our fragile eyes. Even one who is as wise as you still has so much to learn. You can not kill what has already dead, Alec. And your beloved Klonodor died by the hands of Orc while you roamed for treasure in Eregion."

Alec stood there in shock as Rellan continued.

"Yes, yes. You seem surprised, but I fear it's true. The Orcs felled him and he bled out. Death crept over him but he saw something he did not expect in the Elysian Shard – his love Elvellonwen. His soul bound itself to the shard and that is now where it remains. The vision of Elvellowen gave his host body strength – enough strength to find me. His body reanimated and made off on horse back. He threw down his sword at your feet, Alec. He found me. Oh yes, he found me. And I gave him life in exchange for a small debt in return: that he must slay the tyrant Denethor. Oh, my boy, but that dream is over now, is it not? Because of you, Alec. Because of you and your false sense of justice. Oh, my boy. What has happened to you? I raised you better than this. I was the one who put a sword in your hand and told to slay all that is evil. You are a killer, Alec. You are a sword. You are justice. And that is why I love you. And since you have robbed me of my perfect little assassin, it is you who must go in lieu of Klonodor. You must be my killer, boy. You must kill Denethor and free Gondor!"

Alec slumped over, overtaken by the burden he now carried.

"I know this isn't easy, my boy," Rellan continued. "But this is your course. You are the shepherd these lands have cried out for. Only you can end the folly Denethor has wrought!"

"If I do this for you..."

"Don't do it for me, boy. Kill for the good of Gondor! Our home!" Rellan spat back.

"You will return Klonodor," Alec pressed.

Rellan laughed. "Oh, my boy! You humor me! You say it as if I have such power|!"

"You do, Rellan! Oh, wise Rellan! Do it for me," Alec requested with a smirk. His signature smirk.

"Your friend was precious to you, as I see now," Rellan began. "This...will not be easy. Only Elvellonwen's love can bring Klonodor back now. His soul is bound to the shard. Bring me the Elf. Bring me the Elf and you will have Klonodor back."

Alec put his hand on Rellan's shoulder.

"If you do this for me, I will act in Klonodor's stead. I will kill Denethor. For you. For Gondor..."


End file.
